


as it withers, brittle it shakes

by hyruling



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief suicidal ideation, Codependency, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, The Gang Does a Clip Show, dennis breaks a lot of stuff, dissociation mention, eating disorder mention, season 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 00:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16357490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyruling/pseuds/hyruling
Summary: Mac starts to distance himself from Dennis after accepting he doesn't want him around, and Dennis hurtles closer to his breaking point.13.07 coda.





	as it withers, brittle it shakes

**Author's Note:**

> i just have a lot of feelings, okay.
> 
> i haven't written anything in a long, long time, but after the last episode i had to work through my feelings. this was started the night 'the gang does a clip show' aired, before i read through a lot of the really great meta, but a lot of this has been influenced by theories and meta from previous episodes. 
> 
> please see the tags for content warning. a good chunk of this is exploring dennis' mental health and speculation about what happened in north dakota. he's the most complicated character i've ever written for, and i really tried hard to do him justice. 
> 
> title from 'young blood' by the naked and famous. i listened to the renholder remix of it a lot while writing this.

Mac is quiet as they close. 

To be fair, they had all been remarkably quiet after the events of the afternoon. Charlie, Frank, and Dee finally gave up on trying to force it to be a normal day and left hours ago. Any other day and Dennis would have bitched about them leaving early. They didn’t work in shifts; for the most part they all just showed up around open and stayed until close, so he should be pissed that they left him and Mac to finish up alone. But his head is pounding after the alternate reality shit they’d been through this afternoon. The top had finally stopped spinning after a disconcerting ten minutes in which Dennis questioned everything in his entire life, but even once it stopped and he could breathe again, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had still been altered permanently. 

He finishes wiping down the bar and putting the leftover limes in the refrigerator. Mac is waiting for him at the door, looking at his feet. He hasn’t said anything in almost an hour. Dennis wants to push it, because it’s weird, but literally everything about today has been so weird that he can’t muster the energy to force him into conversation. 

Mac locks the door behind them when they step outside. Dennis is halfway to the Range Rover when he realizes Mac isn’t next to him. He turns and sees Mac looking at his phone. 

“You coming?” Dennis asks. 

Mac startles and looks up. “Oh, uh, I actually think I’m gonna walk. Just…get some fresh air, some extra steps, you know…” he trails off. 

“You don’t even have a FitBit dude,” Dennis responds. “And it’s forty degrees out here.”

“Still though, it’s good to walk, healthy and shit, you know, so I’m going to…I’m just going to walk.” He seems nervous, shuffling his feet as he talks, refusing to meet Dennis’ eyes and constantly glancing at his phone.

“At three in the morning?” Dennis asks incredulously. Mac just shrugs. “Come on dude just get in the car, it’s like a thirty minute walk.” 

“No, really, I want to. I’ll be fine. If anyone tries to mess with me I can totally kick their ass now.”

Dennis scoffs. “I highly doubt that Mac. You may be buff now, but you have never successfully kicked anyone’s ass.” 

Mac finally looks at him properly for the first time in hours, his eyes wide. Dennis knows its because he kind of complimented him and swears internally. He’s really tried not to comment on Mac’s body since he got back, but Mac has made it exceptionally difficult. Walking around shirtless every chance he gets, especially right out of the shower. It’s been very…distracting. And annoying. He can’t believe how his own body betrays him the way it does with Mac, the way he can’t help but watch him when he’s turned away. He’s just jealous, he rationalizes. He lost nearly twenty-five pounds while he was in North Dakota, yet Mac has been the one getting all the attention. No one has even mentioned Dennis’ change, the way his cheekbones are so sharp he hardly even needs to use highlighter to accentuate them anymore. 

He expects Mac to smile, his eyes bright and soft, the way he usually does when Dennis compliments him. He also expects an argument, for Mac to bluster and yell for ten minutes about his karate skills, about being the sheriff of Paddy’s, ocular pat-downs, the only thing standing between the gang and certain death on a daily basis. But Mac’s expression doesn’t change. He just blinks and shrugs, looking away again. 

“It’s fine bro, just go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? What, are you not coming home at all?” Dennis asks. 

“I—no I am, it’ll just be,” he stammers, and Dennis can’t see his face well enough in the dark but he could swear he’s blushing. “You’ll already be asleep, is what I mean. Just—I’ll see you tomorrow dude.” 

Then without another word, he turns and starts walking away from Dennis. In the opposite direction of their apartment. 

Dennis considers following him. He even takes a few steps in Mac’s direction, but then his head throbs painfully and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s still not convinced Mac won’t get mugged or stabbed on his way to God knows where, but his head is still pounding and all he wants is to take a handful of Advil PM and go to sleep. He swears under his breath and gets in the Range Rover, tires screeching as he peels away from Paddy’s towards home. 

*

It’s been three hours. 

Dennis knows this because he’s checked his watch every time he’s tossed and turned, unable to sleep knowing Mac still isn’t home. Which is so goddamn annoying that Dennis has considered burning all of Mac’s stupid sleeveless tees out of spite. He’d tried so hard not to constantly worry about things like Mac getting stabbed and left to bleed out in a ditch while he was gone, tried so hard that it almost worked. Yet now that’s he’s back, he finds himself doing it again, like it’s eight years ago and he and Mac still checked in every hour. Like he never even left. 

Reluctantly he picks up his phone again, checking for any texts from Mac letting him know where he is. He has no notifications. No texts, no calls, nothing. 

He refuses to call him. He won’t, he just all but told Mac only eighteen hours ago that he hated being his roommate. That he couldn’t think of one nice thing to say about him. If he called him now to check in, Mac would be able to call him on his bluff. 

Something uncomfortable churns in his stomach. Rather than confront it he gets up, groaning loudly. The Advil PM he took is making him feel groggy, but at least his headache has finally dulled to a mild throb.

As he pads into the living room, intent on drinking an entire pot of coffee, he hears the lock turn. Mac walks in, his clothes rumpled and hair sticking up all over the place, as if he’d been running his hands through it all night. He jumps when he sees Dennis. 

“Jesus dude, I thought you’d be asleep. What are you doing?” 

“Me? What are you doing?” Dennis retorts. Mac backs up a step at Dennis’ tone. Dennis can already feel himself getting slightly hysterical but he can’t stop himself. He’s running on one hour of sleep, he’s entitled to being pissy. “You’ve been gone for three hours! Did you get lost? I swear to god Mac if you got lost after living here for twenty years—“

“I didn’t get lost,” Mac interrupts. “Jesus. I met up with Carmen, she and her husband were at The Rainbow, so we met for a drink. I lost track of time.” 

“Carmen? Since when do you hang out with Carmen?” Dennis demands. “Doesn’t she hate you after the whole anti gay marriage tirade you went on?” 

Mac visibly cringes, which gives Dennis pause. Since when is Mac self aware enough to regret being a dick to someone seven years ago? 

“She doesn’t hate me,” Mac responds. “I mean yeah, she did for awhile, and her husband still isn’t my biggest fan but now…I don’t know, we’re friends. She’s someone I can go to The Rainbow with, you know, she doesn’t feel weird about it.” 

“What are you talking about? Mac, none of us care that you’re gay, okay, we’d go with you, if you’re going to be this goddamn annoying about it.”

Mac’s eyebrows crease together. “Uh no, you wouldn’t, ’cause after you left I asked Charlie and Dee if they would come with me one night, and they said they had ‘better shit to do than watch me get a boner looking at dudes all night’”, Mac says, his fingers hanging in air quotes. His voice is slightly strained. “And I never asked you because, well…” he trails off, and he doesn’t have to finish his sentence. Dennis knows what he’s thinking. “Plus, you know, Carmen...she kinda gets some of the stuff I’ve been going through,” Mac finishes quietly.

Dennis immediately makes a mental u-turn. This is territory he doesn’t want to approach. He changes the subject. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me where you were going?” Mac says nothing, his face impassive. “I almost—whatever, never mind, I don’t give a shit,” Dennis snaps, running his hands down his face, thinking of all the times last night his thumb hovered over the call button after dialing 911. He can’t let Mac know he cares.

An uncomfortable silence settles over them for a few moments. Mac is still not looking directly at him, and Dennis feels a familiar irritation settling in his shoulders. He’s too goddamn tired for this conversation. 

He turns toward the kitchen, about to drop it entirely, when Mac blurts, “I met someone.” 

Dennis freezes. He can’t see Mac but he can feel the tension in the room, can see Mac’s flushed face without even needing to look at him. Mac coughs uncomfortably behind him. 

Dennis takes a deep breath and turns around. “You met someone?” he deadpans. 

“Yeah?” Mac says, and it comes out like a question. “Well I mean, I’ve already met him, but this is different because… you know. And um, it’s actually, you know him from like, you remember that Paddy’s Billboard thing and your thin mint cult—“

“Rex?” Dennis squawks when his brain catches up with Mac’s stammering. He doesn’t mean for his voice to come out so high. He closes his eyes, taking another deep breath and tries to rearrange his face back into something resembling controlled calm, thanking anyone listening that Mac still won’t look at him. He opens them to see Mac blushing and nodding. “Since when—Rex is gay? Didn’t he bang Dee like, a lot?”

Mac makes a face. “Yeah, but don’t remind me of that dude. And he’s not gay, he says he’s bi,” Dennis forces his face to remain stoic, his heart thundering in his chest. “He was at The Rainbow tonight and I invited him to come hang with me and Carmen, and we kind of, I don’t know hit it off?” Mac continues, his voice hitching up into a question again. “We’re uh, going to workout together tomorrow,” he finishes, still blushing furiously.

“How romantic,” Dennis says flatly. Mac doesn’t react, doesn’t look up from his feet. “I don’t know dude, he’s kind of…boring. And he fell for my cult shit, remember?” 

“So did I,” Mac answers, and, okay fair point. Mac finally looks up, and his mouth opens and closes when Dennis doesn’t respond. He seems to struggle with himself for a moment before making up his mind about something. “I thought you’d be happy,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Why?” It comes out before Dennis can stop himself, and Mac’s face instantly falls. It’s de ja vu, it’s the exact expression he had yesterday when the gang figured out what Dennis’ altered reality meant. But then inexplicably, his face hardens. 

“Because if I started dating, I’d be out of the apartment more,” he replies as if it’s obvious, his voice void of emotion. Dennis’ stomach clenches again. Jesus when was the last time he ate something?  “Isn’t that what you want?”

Dennis opens his mouth, sputtering as he tries to respond, but Mac just pushes past him towards his room. Dennis gets a glimpse of the goddamn dildo bike as Mac’s door shuts forcefully. He stands staring after him for a few minutes, trying to make sense of what just happened. Distantly, through the fog in his brain, he remembers the coffee. 

He shuffles into the kitchen. His body goes through the motions of pouring out the coffee grounds, getting a mug and the creamer out, his mind curiously blank. He can feel rage building beneath the surface, so familiar it’s almost comforting, but he refuses to acknowledge it, pushing it far down far where his mind can’t reach it. 

He pours a cup and adds creamer slowly, robotically, and returns to his room. He sit back in his bed, holding the mug close to warm his freezing hands, staring at nothing for a long five minutes. As he lifts the mug to take a sip, his stomach churns again, violently, and before he can stop himself he hurls the mug as hard as he can at the wall, breathing hard as the rage swells in his ribs. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, regretting it instantly. Coffee is dripping all over his laptop, the vintage record player he’d manipulated Frank into buying for him last year, his only picture of Brian Jr.  He feels bile rising in his throat and fights the growing nausea. 

He waits, listening for the telltale signs of Mac rushing to check on him. A minute goes by, then another, and the apartment is silent. For the first time in their entire adult life, Mac ignores Dennis’ outburst. 

He should clean up the coffee and pick up the broken shards. He’ll hate himself later, when he cuts his foot and realizes he’s destroyed his only photo of his son. But the exhaustion finally takes hold, washing over him powerfully the way it always does after an eruption. He curls himself into the smallest ball he can and is asleep before he’s even closed his eyes. 

*

“Goddammit where the hell is Mac?” 

It’s rush hour at Paddy’s a week later and they’re actually packed. Some high school in the area had a huge PTA fundraiser night or some shit and it’s packed with middle aged parents letting off steam while they have babysitters at home. The thought alone makes Dennis’ blood boil; parents these days coddle the shit out of their kids. He and Dee were left home alone for entire weekends at a time by age seven. 

Most of the gang is actually working their ass off, trying to scam the customers into tipping them more by pretending to be interested in their stupid, mediocre kids. Dennis has been half heartedly flirting with a few of the moms at the bar while their husbands look the other way, and somehow it’s working. These women wouldn’t know what hit them if he turned it up to ten. He’s too distracted to try, because Mac didn’t show up this afternoon and hasn’t shown his face all night. He may be useless as a bouncer but he can change the kegs like it’s nothing now that he’s built real actual muscle. Dennis finally swallowed his pride an hour ago and called him six times in a row with no answer. 

“Dennis? Hello? Where the fuck is Mac?” Dee hisses at him again from behind the bar. “These DILFs are chugging beer like they think they’re Brett Kavanaugh, we need a new keg.” 

“I don’t know where he is Dee, I’ve been calling for an hour, he isn’t answering,” Dennis responds tersely. “And don’t call them DILFs, or mention Kavanaugh around this crowd. We’ll have a riot in here if they start getting heated about that dick while they’re plastered.” 

“Whatever, just go change the keg. I need to keep table eight happy, they’re about to drop big bucks on the hot young waitress that’s been letting them prattle at her about their college days for twenty straight minutes.” She smiles slyly and Dennis scoffs. 

“What hot young waitress are you talking about?” Dennis counters, and Dee flips him off. 

“Just change the goddamn keg, boner.”

“Dee, if you swear or flip me off in front of the customers again I swear to god—“ 

“No one gives a shit Dennis! It adds to the charm, right ladies?” She waves at the group at the bar that Dennis has been schmoozing all night. They laugh and nod, and Dennis has to turn away and count to ten silently. He rolls his shoulders, trying to ignore the prickling irritation he feels building again. 

“I’m in the middle of something Dee, have Charlie change the keg.” Dennis says as he turns back around. But Dee is already gone, swaying back over to table eight and tossing her hair. He screams silently to himself and heads towards the basement to find Charlie. 

Charlie is huffing glue in the corner when Dennis finds him. 

“Charlie! What the hell dude, we’re slammed, I need you to change the keg buddy.” Charlie’s eyes are glassy as he slowly turns towards Dennis’ voice. 

“Oh yeah, sure I can—I can change it for you,” he slurs, his voice high and breathy. “Let me just. I’m gonna…” he trails off and stumbles towards Dennis. 

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Dennis fumes. “Charlie, why are you getting high right now? We haven’t had a night with this much potential profit in months!” 

“P-potential…parrot…right,” Charlie mumbles. He must be drunk too if he’s slurring this bad. “Crowds…they stress me out, bro, I have a disorder, I think I need to go back to that quack shrink.” 

“Goddammit—forget it. Where’s Frank?” 

“He’s uh. Munching crumbers. Crumbers. Cucumbers. Something.” 

Dennis feels his eyes roll back as far as they’ll go. He steers Charlie to the cot they keep in the basement for occasions such as this with a short command for him to sleep it off. Charlie is already snoring by the time Dennis heads back upstairs. 

He pulls out his cellphone and dials Mac again as he storms towards the office. A quick sweep of the bar shows that Dee is behind the bar, somewhat managing the crowd of people lined up. He ignores her call for help and throws open the office door. 

“Frank! What are you doing, we need help out here.” 

“I am helping! My job is to manage shit, I’m managing from in here.” 

Dennis listens to Mac’s voicemail greeting for what feels like the thousandth time that night and jams his phone back in his pocket. 

“There will be nothing to manage if we go under because we can’t keep up with a full bar!” Dennis exclaims. The tension in his shoulders is spreading to his neck. He feels heat spread throughout his body and starts sweating. “Every goddamn time we have a good night like this, we ruin it and word spreads and we don’t turn a profit for months!” 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Christ. You four are doing just fine.” 

“Us four?” Dennis nearly shrieks. “Charlie is passed out in the basement, Dee is trying to get one of these dads to bang her, and Mac isn’t even here!” He’s breathing hard, barely holding holding himself together. He wants to beat Frank over the head with the rusty umbrella they keep in the corner of the office. “I’m the only one doing jack shit out there and no one will change the fucking keg.” 

“Why ain’t Mac here? I’m taking this out of that little shits paycheck. Plus interest!” Frank cries. Dennis immediately takes back wanting to beat him with an umbrella. 

“I don’t know where he is but I’m on board with that,” Dennis agrees. “Will you just—change the keg first?” he pleads. 

“Yeah yeah gimme a minute,” Frank says, and Dennis breathes properly for the first time in twenty minutes and heads back to the bar. 

An hour later, the crowd has started to thin. Frank finally changes the keg, Charlie wakes up and has been sort of keeping up with his janitorial duties, Dee has fucked off somewhere to count her tips, and Dennis has taken three shots of tequila to calm his frayed nerves. He’s pouring a fourth when the door opens. Dennis groans and looks up, expecting another loud group of overexcited parents, and sees Mac walking in with Rex. 

Dennis’ breath hitches and he spills some of the tequila he’s pouring onto the bar. Mac looks…good. He’s wearing an actual dress shirt, not the stupid grey polo he always wears to their monthly dinners. It’s maroon and unbuttoned slightly at the top, and he has the sleeves rolled to the elbow. His grey slacks fit snug on his thighs and his dress shoes are actually shining, like he made an effort to polish them for once in his life. Rex looks to be dressed to the same caliber, but Mac is the one turning heads all over the bar. 

Mac smiles at Dennis and waves. Dennis coughs loudly and takes his shot, his hands shaking. Did he eat anything for lunch today? His blood sugar must be low. 

It’s only when Mac reaches the bar that Dennis remembers he’s furious with him. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” he snarls when Mac is within earshot. 

Mac frowns. “Uh, hi to you too dude,” he says. “You remember Rex—“

“Yeah, hi Rex,” Dennis says absently, refusing to look directly at him. Rex waves awkwardly and hangs back. Dennis is shocked that he’s not as dense as he looks and can sense the tension in the air. “I repeat, where have you been Mac? We’ve been slammed tonight, why weren’t you here?” Dennis gestures around them and Mac looks around, seemingly noticing how full it is for the first time. 

“Oh wow dude,” he says. “Sorry, I told you guys I wouldn’t be here tonight like three days ago, remember?” Before Dennis can respond Mac says, “I mean, never mind, of course you don’t remember.” 

Dennis opens his mouth, trying to decipher Mac’s tone, but before he can Mac keeps rambling. 

“Anyway it was our first like, real date,” he continues, gesturing to Rex. Dennis’ chest constricts, white hot heat swelling beneath his ribs. “We went out to dinner and then we saw that corny Lady Gaga movie, and Rex definitely cried like a baby—“

“You did too man!” Rex interrupts. They’re both smiling at each other and blushing. Dennis wants to choke something. 

“But it was actually really good? Like I already downloaded some of the songs from it, you should listen to them later. Anyway, we wanted to swing by for a drink and to say hi.” 

“There are other bars closer to the theater,” Dennis grits out. Something passes over Mac’s face, but before Dennis can place it his expression smooths back over. 

“Maybe, but we can’t drink for free there,” he responds,  moving to grab a couple beers from behind the bar. Dennis stands in front of him, blocking his entrance. 

“They’re only free when you’re working, asshole,” Dennis says. “You ditched us on our busiest night in months, so you have to pay full price like every other customer.” 

Mac looks shocked for a moment, then glares at Dennis while Rex shuffles awkwardly behind him. 

“Mac, it’s okay babe,” Rex starts, and Dennis feels something ugly roar in his head at the pet name. “We can pay, you paid for the movie tickets, I got this—“

“No, he’s just being a dick!” Mac yells, going from zero to a hundred in five seconds flat. Other customers have started to notice the commotion and the room goes quiet as people turn to watch. “You’ve brought tons of chicks back here and drank for free dude, what are you even talking about—“

“That was different!” Dennis’ voice is raising in response to Mac’s. “I wasn’t screwing over my coworkers to do it!” 

“Bullshit! Where’s Charlie, he’ll back me up, you’ve ditched us so many times to try and bang chicks by giving them free drinks!” 

“Mac, calm down, let’s just go,” Rex interrupts, and Dennis turns on him. 

“Don’t tell him what to do! We’re in the middle of something here  _Rex_ ,” Dennis snarls as he says his name. He’s about to lay into Rex, ask him who the fuck he thinks he is, he’s been here all of five minutes and he’s trying to lay some kind of claim on Mac already. Mac steps to the side, blocking Rex from Dennis’ view. 

“Leave him out of this Dennis,” Mac says darkly, turning and grabbing Rex by the shoulder. Dennis’ hands clench into fists at the contact. “And you know what? Never mind. We’re leaving.”  Mac pushes Rex towards the door. 

“Don’t wait up,” Mac throws over his shoulder as he and Rex leave, slamming the door behind him. 

Dennis grabs the nearest object he can, which turns out to be a cocktail shaker, and throws it against the back of the bar. It shatters a half empty bottle of vodka; the few people who had somehow ignored the fight finally turn at the sound. Dennis turns back towards the bar, breathing heavily as everyone stares. 

“Take a goddamn picture assholes!” he screams, and instantly every single patron pours out of the bar. 

He’s left alone, trying to calm down and quiet the ringing in his ears. Eventually Charlie emerges from the bathroom and looks around curiously. 

“Did everyone leave? Finally,” he sighs. He notices the broken glass and moves closer to Dennis. 

“Whoa, what happened dude?” 

Dennis looks at him slowly. His fists are still clenched tight, his heart racing. Charlie is just watching him, waiting for an answer. 

“I’m fine,” Dennis finally breathes. “Give me that.” He gestures to the mop in Charlie’s hand. 

“I got it dude,” Charlie says, his voice soft. “Just go home, tonight was brutal.” 

Dennis doesn’t move. Charlie slowly walks towards Dennis. He starts picking up the larger shards of glass, muttering to Dennis to stay still until he gets the rest. He mops up the vodka, sweeps up the remaining glass, all while Dennis stands perfectly still, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal. His ears are still ringing. 

He’s still not sure how it happens. He doesn’t even remember the time between Charlie cleaning up the vodka and getting in the car, but the next thing he knows Charlie is driving Dennis home. Dennis has never once let Charlie drive the Range Rover, he’s trying to work out how Charlie managed to con him into it when they pull into the parking lot of Dennis’ apartment. 

“Want me to walk you upstairs?” Charlie asks quietly. 

Dennis scoffs. “What are you, my date?” His stomach clenches. It’s just a joke, he reasons. Charlie doesn’t understand why he’s panicking at his own joke. 

Charlie just smiles. He cuts the engine and gets out at the same time Dennis opens his door. He tosses Dennis his keys with a short wave.

Dennis is halfway to the door to his building when he turns back to Charlie. 

“Wait, dude, how are you going to get home?” he calls. 

“Dee is going to drive me. She followed us.” Charlie gestures to Dee’s car pulling into the lot. 

“She…what?” Dennis stammers. When did she even show back up at the bar? 

“Yeah, it’s cool dude. You seemed a little… I don’t know. We just wanted to make sure you didn’t wreck the new Rover because of whatever was going on back there.” 

Something in his tone makes Dennis think Charlie knows exactly what was going on. He chews on his lip as he tries to think of a response that will smooth all of this over. That will show Charlie that everything is fine, everything is normal. Bring back the status quo where Dennis is in control of himself and his emotions at all times. He opens his mouth and Charlie lifts his hand before he can start. 

“Dennis, it’s fine. I’m beat, I’m gonna go home. See you tomorrow.” 

Dennis swallows around something hard in his throat. “Yeah. Tomorrow. Night dude,” he manages. Charlie waves and gets in the passenger seat of Dee’s car. She honks twice at him before driving away. 

Dennis slowly walks up the stairs to his apartment. He can tell before he even walks in that it’s empty. Mac is probably staying the night at Rex’s place. 

His mind goes blank again, shutting down any emotional response he may have had to that thought. He crawls into his bed fully clothed, refusing to think about Mac and Rex and what they might be doing tonight in an apartment that isn’t his. 

*

Dennis wakes to the smell of bacon frying. 

For a few minutes, he doesn’t remember the events of the night before. He even feels calm, reveling in the return to normalcy. Mac is here, Mac is cooking breakfast that he’ll try to force feed Dennis, Dennis will eat a piece of dry toast to appease him, they’ll drink coffee and talk about stupid shit and go to work. 

But then with a jolt he remembers, and feels a knot settle in his stomach. 

Slowly he gets up and shuffles into the bathroom, brushes his teeth and washes his face. He forgoes applying makeup for the time being and walks into the kitchen where Mac is hunched over fried eggs. 

“Hey,” Dennis greets hesitantly. 

Mac turns. He looks like shit. His face is drawn and his hair is a mess. Dennis refuses to let himself imagine why he looks so tired. 

“Hey,” Mac says, then turns back to the pan. “There’s coffee, if you want.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Dennis says, surprised by his polite tone. He pours himself a cup and sits at the kitchen table, watching Mac cook. He can see tension in Mac’s back. 

Dennis coughs and says, “It smells good.” 

“Thanks. I thought you’d be hungry, you looked kinda pale last night.” 

Dennis freezes halfway into taking a sip of coffee. He doesn’t know what to say. Mac has done some annoyingly invasive shit before in the name of Dennis’ health, like sneaking protein powder and vitamins into his coffee when he refused to eat a full meal, as if Dennis wouldn’t notice. Or half carrying him to the chimichanga restaurant and ordering the biggest one on the menu when Dennis almost passed out at the doctor’s office. So really, he shouldn’t be surprised that Mac came home the morning after banging his vapid, beefcake date just to cook him breakfast. His stomach flips uncomfortably and he says nothing. 

Mac serves breakfast, making Dennis a full plate of food without a word. He even pours two glasses of orange juice. Dennis doesn’t even try to protest at the amount of food on his plate. He wants to say something to acknowledge what happened last night, but every time he tries to speak, he changes his mind and takes a bite of food instead. He figures trying to eat all of what Mac prepared is as good as an apology. 

He only manages to eat half, but he finishes his orange juice, thinking Mac will be happy that he got a decent amount of vitamin C at least. But Mac doesn’t say a word, he just clears the table and puts the dishes in the sink. Dennis watches him the entire time, words caught in his throat. 

“I’m gonna shower,” Mac says when the dishes are done. He heads towards his bathroom, and Dennis almost lets it go. But then finds himself standing, hardly registering that he’s doing it. 

“Mac, wait.” 

Mac turns, his face impassive. Dennis can’t read him like this, and he hates it. Mac usually wears his emotions on his sleeve, Dennis can always guess exactly what he’s thinking. He hesitates for a minute, and what eventually comes out of his mouth surprises him. 

“How—how was the rest of your date?”

Mac blinks, his eyebrows creasing together. 

“What?” he responds. “You want to know...how my date went?” 

“Yeah, yeah man of course,” Dennis replies, trying to keep his voice breezy. Normal. “I mean, obviously it got kind of messy at the bar, I just want to… I’m uh, you know. How did the rest of the night go?” he finishes, his voice shaky. There, he said it, now they can move on. 

Mac just stares at him. 

“Was that supposed to be an apology?” 

Dennis gapes. It was, obviously, but Mac wasn’t supposed to comment on it. He was just supposed to forgive him and move on, like they always do. 

“Apology? Why should I apologize? You were the one who left us hanging dude,” Dennis challenges, watching as Mac’s expression grows stormy. Dennis almost smiles. Finally. This is familiar, this he can work with. He’s worked through hundreds of arguments with Mac this way; getting Mac riled up is too easy. Calming him down is even easier, he responds to Dennis’ soft shushes so effortlessly, immediately going pliant the moment Dennis touches him. Usually the whole process exhausts him so much that he forgets why he was even angry with Dennis. 

Dennis holds his breath, waiting for the tantrum. But Mac doesn’t rise to the bait this time. He just sighs loudly and looks at his feet. 

“Whatever dude, I’m too tired for this,” Mac says, visibly deflating. Dennis feels his own anger amplify in response. This isn’t how this is supposed to work. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen. “I’m going to shower. I’ll meet you at Paddy’s.” 

“What do you mean, you’re gonna walk again?” Dennis asks before Mac can leave. “No dude, that will take forever and you’ll be late again. We’re driving.” 

Mac stares at him for a long minute, his expression blank. Dennis shifts uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Mac finally sighs and turns away, resigned.

“You do whatever you want, Dennis,” he says, sounding exhausted. He walks away, ending the conversation just like that. 

Dennis feels something fracture as Mac disappears into his room. He can sense the telltale signs of a panic attack and forces himself to breath, to not think, to think about literally anything but the splintering in his reality. Something changed in Mac after that inception bullshit last week, and Dennis can’t get control of it, and it’s terrifying him. 

*

Mac shows up to Paddy’s ten minutes after Dennis. Dennis sees him get out of an unfamiliar car from where he is in the the alley, having been bullied by Frank into taking out the trash. A figure gets out of the driver’s side, and Dennis recognizes Rex as he leans in to kiss Mac’s cheek. Mac goes inside as Rex drives away, and Dennis stares at the spot where his shitty Toyota Corolla was just parked, paralyzed. 

He stays outside for a long time, gripping the trash bag in his hand like it’s a lifeline. He’s not sure how long he stands out there. Dee is the one who finally finds him, and he can tell she’s about to start yelling without even looking at her. But she stops in her tracks when she catches sight of him. Instead of screeching at him to get back to work, she calmly takes the trash from Dennis’ hand, tossing it in the dumpster. Without a word, she takes his hand that is now balled into a fist and starts to slowly massage it. Just like she did when they were kids and he’d get too upset, his hands reaching to strangle someone, shaking with a rage he didn’t understand and couldn’t control. His hand slowly relaxes in her grip. 

“You okay?” she finally whispers once his hand has opened completely and is lying limp in her grasp. Dennis looks up at her as if he’s just noticed she was there. 

“Of course,” he responds shortly after a beat. He wrenches his hand from hers. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He can feel her eyes on him as he walks back into the bar, but she doesn’t push it. She just follows him, shutting the door behind them. 

*

Here’s the thing. 

Dennis isn’t a fucking idiot, okay. He prides himself on being most self aware person in their exceptionally dysfunctional group. He knows who he is, and what he wants, just as he knows exactly how delusional every other person in the gang is. 

The problem is, as the most rational member of the gang, there’s a certain hierarchy that he has to maintain. One slip, one weakness, and the entire system falls apart. Every time the gang has tried something new, every time they’ve tried to change the reality they are all safe and comfortable in, they nearly fell apart. And as the most rational and responsible person, Dennis can’t let that happen. Mac may think he’s the protector of Paddy’s, but it’s Dennis that keeps the gang together. They haven’t said as much to him, but he knows they understand this. Why else would they have accepted him back so easily after he deserted them? They welcomed him with open arms, went along with him without question when he continued on as if he had never left.  

So, he’s not a fucking idiot. He knows full well exactly why his stomach dropped when Mac said they weren’t roommates in his alternate reality. He knows exactly why the thought of not living with him is unthinkable, how inescapably intertwined he and Mac’s lives are. He knows how he desperately wishes that he could be someone else, anyone else, someone who didn’t rely so heavily on another person; wishes that he could live his life the way he was meant to, that he could flourish without the burden of his codependency on Mac. How he wishes he could be the kind of person to settle down and marry a nice woman, have nice children, live the normal and successful life that is expected of a man like him. He knows that he couldn’t have that even if he tried, knows that it’s been a long time since he’s felt any genuine interest in a woman at all. As much as he resisted putting any kind of label on himself, he knows he’s gay. For a long time, he’d convinced himself that he was so sexually evolved that gender was merely irrelevant, before finally admitting that he was lying to himself. He can accept this about himself, but he can’t let anyone else know, least of all Mac. He needs to maintain the illusion, needs to live the lie to protect himself. 

He knows that when Mac came out something snapped in him, that he was no longer comfortable in his own closet. He was no longer safe from his precarious feelings for Mac because the barrier that kept them in comfortable limbo for years had finally shattered. And in it’s wake Mac had reached for him, and Dennis pushed him away. He knows he could never admit any of this to Mac, knows that he has to let him believe that Dennis hates him. That Dennis doesn’t want to touch him, doesn’t want his affection, doesn’t need his devotion, doesn’t want everything Mac wants from him and more. 

He knows that he doesn’t hate Mac. He remembers how he didn’t sleep for months while he was in North Dakota, missing Mac and the whole gang so much it felt as though core parts of himself were splintering apart, as though he were slowly disintegrating. How his voice nearly broke every time he mentioned them in conversation with Mandy or any of the other unimportant, dull people she’d forced him to befriend. He couldn’t even remember any of their names. 

He knows that he’s in love with Mac. Has known it since he told Mac he had beautiful lips after the miserable day where they tried and failed to distance themselves from the other. He shoved it down deep that night, refusing to look it in the face, kept it buried for years. But then Mac came out, and Dennis thought they were going to die, and he took his hand and tried to communicate everything in that one gesture. They didn’t die, Mac went back into the closet, and Dennis breathed a sigh of relief as he retreated back into his own denial where it was safe, where it was easy. And then he came out for real. He stayed out, Dennis holding his breath for weeks, waiting for Mac to take it back, to give Dennis another out. Instead, Mac bought him the RPG. Mac gave him something he wanted more than anything, he made him feel cherished on a day that he usually spent wallowing in self pity. He knew what Dennis needed when Dennis didn’t know himself. Dennis knew the moment he opened that crate that he was lost. The feelings he’d kept buried down as far in the back of his mind as they’d go came crashing back in an avalanche that threatened to drown him. 

He knows that he is in love with Mac, and he knows that he is more terrified of that part of himself than he’s ever been of anything in his life. 

He knows that he hates Mac for this vulnerability that only he can evoke in Dennis. 

He knows that if he asked, Mac would give him everything he wants. Everything he doesn’t deserve. 

He feels too much, too goddamn much. He thinks about his medication, the pills Mac used to pick up for him every month religiously, the only thing besides Mac himself that has ever been able to calm the storm in his mind. He remembers constantly forgetting to pick them up himself in North Dakota, then purposely refusing to pick them up. Remembers how every day away from Philly he tore more and more at the seams. Remembers Mandy’s increasingly frequent insistence that he find a new psychologist. Remembers her threatening to not let him see Brian Jr. until he got help. Remembers the bruises on his knuckles from his one sided fight with the wall of his shitty apartment. Remembers ending up at the psychiatric hospital after a particularly bad dissociative episode. Remembers the alcohol withdrawal, the shakes and tremors and sweating and puking until he couldn’t see straight. Remembers it all being for nothing the moment he got back to Philly.  _Do you guys still serve beer here?_  Remembers the loneliness, how he refused to make friends with any of the other patients, because they weren’t like him, because he didn’t actually need to be there. He remembers pleading with Mandy to visit more often. Remembers desperately begging her to send Mac his new number at the hospital, the relief when she finally agreed, the crushing despair when weeks went by without a single call from Mac. He remembers giving in to the doctors, giving up control for the sake of his son, putting on the stupid watch that irritated his skin, the one that beeped at him every eight hours, reminding him to choke down his medication. He remembers letting them control his diet, telling him exactly when and what to eat. Remembers sticking his finger down his throat every chance he got, basking in their frowns as he continued to lose weight despite their best efforts. He remembers telling the therapist everything he knew she wanted to hear, not meaning a single word of it. How she infuriatingly called him on his bullshit and read him like a book. She guessed every one of his secrets, every one of his compulsions. He remembers the way she slowly increased the dosage of his meds and the frequency of their sessions. He remembers the numbness, the way he barely felt anything at his son’s birthday party, his first t-ball game, his first day of school. He remembers flushing the pills down the toilet the day he finally broke and decided to move back to Philadelphia, feeling free, ready to embrace the chaos again. He thrives in chaos. Chaos is safe, chaos is home. Chaos is Mac howling about putting his thumb through his eye in a fit of rage. Chaos is Dee threatening to destroy everything he owns in a voice so similar to his it catches him by surprise. Chaos is Charlie and Frank playing Nightcrawlers and hunting for coins naked in the sewer.  Chaos is the gang, whole and passionate and alive. 

He remembers everything, feels everything, understands everything. He knows who he is, and he knows that he can’t give up control again. He can’t give in to his feelings, any of them. The last time he’d let that happen, he nearly lost everything.  

He kept the watch. Every time he felt tempted to give in, to selfishly throw it all away, it reminded him of everything he had to lose. 

*

A month passes. 

A month in which Dennis barely even sees Mac. He sees him at Paddy’s everyday, though he avoids Dennis as much as he can get away with. He sees him every morning at home. Even mornings after Mac stays at Rex’s, he still comes home before work to cook breakfast for Dennis. He suspects Mac thinks this is the only full meal he gets each day, and has made it his responsibility to make sure he eats it. He’s not wrong. 

They still have their movie nights, but without the usual arguments and commentary. Dennis isn’t even sure why Mac is still there every Tuesday night, but he can’t let movie nights go, so he keeps quiet. It’s the only constant left in their life that he can cling to. But any time that Mac is not obligated to spend in Dennis’ presence, he spends with Rex, and Dennis grows increasingly furious every hour, every minute. 

Dennis accepts it. He’s angry, and jealous, and constantly on the verge of a breakdown, but he accepts it. Because Mac is still here. They will get through this, they always do. They survived Dennis kicking Mac out on more than one occasion, they survived his disastrous marriage to Maureen, they survived burning the apartment down twice. They survived the suburbs and living at Dee’s and Dennis’ departure. Sooner or later Mac will get tired of Rex and he’ll be back, they’ll eventually go back to normal and continue the way they always have, the way they always will. 

So, he’s managing. He may slam doors a little more forcefully than necessary when Rex drops Mac off at Paddy’s, he may go off on too many rants about how incompatible Mac and Rex are, ignoring the fact that the gang have started tuning him out. He puts significantly more effort into pretending he doesn’t care when Mac is around, making it crystal clear that he couldn’t give a shit about Rex and how many dates they’ve been on now, or how they got caught having sex in a public shower at the gym and now have court ordered community service. The rest of the gang is engaged and laughing as they tell this story, enchanted by Rex’s surprisingly good storytelling ability. Frank is practically howling before he recounts one of his own disgusting public sexual encounters. Mac glances at Dennis as Frank talks, and Dennis looks icily back, doing his best to communicate how disinterested he is. A dejected look flashes over Mac’s face before he turns his attention back to Frank, putting his arm around Rex’s waist. 

Dennis is managing. He may find crescent shaped marks on his palms that last for hours after Mac and Rex finally leave, but it’s fine. He’s managing. 

 

Everything is fine until their monthly dinner. 

Dennis lets himself be excited about dinner. He isn’t thrilled that they’re going to go into it with all of the tension that’s been simmering beneath the surface, but it’s another tradition that will help guide them back to where they belong. 

He showers and wears his bluest button down, his tightest slacks. He spends thirty minutes on his makeup, making sure it’s perfect. He wears the cologne that he knows Mac loves. For the first time in over a month, he knows Mac won’t be able to avoid looking at Dennis. 

He walks into the living room to wait for Mac and turns on some reality show, not really paying attention to it. His veins are thrumming with anticipation. This is the first monthly dinner he and Mac have had in a year. They skipped the first month after he got back, and Dennis wasn’t sure they’d ever pick them back up. But then on Wednesday during a tense drive to work, Mac had shyly asked if they could go to Guigino’s on Friday. Dennis had agreed, perhaps too quickly, relief flooding his body. This had to be a sign, a first step back towards normalcy, toward good ole Mac and Dennis. To say he’s been looking forward to tonight is an understatement. 

Mac emerges from his bedroom, and again Dennis forgets to breathe. He’s wearing another real button down, navy blue with a skinny black tie, and the tight grey slacks again. He’s left his hair loose and soft, and Dennis thinks that he’s never looked so good. 

“What?” 

Mac’s voice breaks through his trance. Dennis swallows and feels a blush creep high on his cheeks. He looks away, trying and failing to pretend he wasn’t staring. 

“Nothing,” Dennis answers as he stands, straightening his pants for something to do with his hands. When he looks up, Mac is staring at him the same way he imagines he was just gaping at Mac. “You, uh. You look good.” He coughs. “Does being gay mean you finally developed a fashion sense?” 

He smiles, and his heart flips when Mac returns it. 

“Yeah, I guess. Cindy took me shopping a few months ago, said I had horrible taste for a gay dude, and I’d need some real clothes if I was ever going to start dating and—“ he stops abruptly, clearing his throat. 

Dennis shifts uncomfortably. He can guess where that sentence was going but doesn’t want to add to the tension. Not tonight. 

“You ready to go?” he asks. “You can pick the music.” Mac grins and nods. 

The drive to Guigino’s is quiet. Mac forgoes his usual Christian rock and actually puts on some of Dennis’ 80s CDs. It’s mostly ABBA, and he replays ‘Dancing Queen’ four times, but Dennis says nothing. 

They get a decent table in a corner away from the congestion of the main floor where Dennis doesn’t feel claustrophobic. They’re close enough to the kitchen where Mac can watch the action without it being irritating and distracting. 

Dennis keeps conversation light while they look at their menus. They recap the week’s antics at the bar and make fun of nearby customers. Mac tells him about Rex’s dog, a chihuahua that will play dead if you hold it in one hand on it’s side. Dennis keeps his mouth shut, grinding his teeth as he recounts some story about Rex and a dog park they went to. 

“Sorry for the wait gentlemen—oh, god,” a vaguely familiar voice says. 

“Finally,” Dennis says without looking up. “We’ll take a bottle of your most expensive red, please, and our regular appetizer.” 

He hears a heavy sigh. “Sir, you’ll have to remind me, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you here.” 

“Ugh, it’s not that hard bozo,” Mac interjects. Dennis smirks, sensing the Mac he knows emerging. “We’ve always split the risotto bites, for like ten years. Just check the logs. Also, I don’t recall ever meeting you, so I don’t appreciate the tone.” Mac is glaring at the waiter with a familiar defensive expression, and Dennis can’t help but smile as he looks at him. It hits him square in the chest just how much he’s missed Mac. 

The waiter sighs loudly. “We don’t keep logs of everything every customer has ever ordered sir,” he says tersely. “And I’ve waited on you two many times, how do you not remember—“

“Then you should know our order already, shouldn’t you?” Dennis counters with a short laugh. He watches the waiter struggle to keep a straight face before turning on his heel towards the kitchen. 

“Jesus, that was rude,” Mac says once he’s gone. “He didn’t even ask if we were ready to order.”

“Yeah, his tip just got cut ten percent,” Dennis agrees. 

The rest of the dinner goes shockingly well. They both drink too much wine, and by the end of it Dennis can almost forget everything that’s happened the last six weeks. It all feels like it did eight years ago, before Mac was out, back they were both comfortably deep in denial about their feelings for each other. It feels like they’re just Mac and Dennis, blood brothers, best friends, partners in crime. They relive old times, come up with a new scheme to run a competing bar that just opened out of business, discuss Charlie and Frank’s recent attempt to invent an alcoholic beef stew. Dennis hasn’t felt this good in months. 

Awash in the feeling of nostalgia, Dennis insists they order after dinner cocktails, much to the dismay of their rude waiter. They order one, then another, then another. By the time they leave, they’re stumbling over each other, laughing too loudly, their hands touching everywhere; shoulders, backs, arms. Mac hesitates at first, but when Dennis continues to initiate the contact, he relaxes and brushes his hand over Dennis’ neck as he guides him into an Uber. Dennis suppresses a shudder. 

The ride home is quiet by comparison. Their Uber driver is listening to some soft rock station, delicate piano playing quietly in the background. Dennis finds himself entranced by Mac as they move through the dark streets. His profile is illuminated by moonlight, and Dennis allows himself to consider how beautiful he is. Mac is asking the driver a question, the name of the band playing or something, and his face is so expressive and open. It’s such a stark contrast to the closed off demeanor he’s had around Dennis for the last month. He didn’t even realize how much he missed it until now. 

They pull into their parking lot, Mac is thanking the driver and then they’re spilling out onto the pavement. Dennis is desperate to touch Mac again, so he grabs his arm and leads him to the fire escape. 

“Dude, what are you doing?” Mac asks, laughing. 

“Let’s go to the roof,” Dennis answers. “Come on, we haven’t gone up there in forever.” 

“We are way too drunk to climb that,” Mac protests. He still lets himself be led to the ladder. “Bro, seriously, we’re going to die.” 

“Don’t be such a pussy, come on,” Dennis encourages. “Look, you go first, I’ll catch you if you fall.” 

Mac pauses, his wrist still in Dennis’ grasp. He stares at Dennis for a long minute but says nothing, his expression unreadable. Eventually he pulls his arm from Dennis’ grip and starts to climb. Dennis allows himself a moment to stare at his ass as he climbs, before grabbing the first rung and following. 

They make it to the top in one piece. Dennis sends a quick thank you to the universe that no one else is up here with them. Mac automatically heads towards their usual spot. Years ago a couple lawn chairs were somehow welded into the roof by some other tenants, and the building owners gave up long ago on trying to remove them. The chairs are situated over the best spot to watch the city lights at night. 

Mac sighs as they sit down, tilting his head back like he’s drinking it all in. Dennis watches his throat work as he swallows. 

“All we need is some weed and this will be just like old times,” Mac says without opening his eyes. 

Dennis laughs quietly. “What, you don’t carry weed with you anymore? What kind of drug slinger are you?” 

“The kind that stays out of prison,” Mac answers. “Shit, you remember that time Jamie’s cop dad caught us smoking weed and made us spend the night in a cell?” 

And just like that, an hour passes the same way as dinner. Dennis tries to fight the optimism he feels creeping in, knowing that somehow he’ll ruin this, somehow he’ll hurt Mac again and they’ll go right back where they were. But it’s so hard not to feel hopeful when Mac looks the way he does, when his laugh is lighting Dennis up from the inside. 

His head is still buzzing when the conversation lulls into a comfortable silence. He and Mac watch the night creepy by, and Dennis hasn’t felt this whole in a long time. 

Mac clears his throat after a few minutes. 

“Hey, uh, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” Dennis’ heart plummets.  _Don’t do it asshole. Just let us have this, just for a little while longer._

“Okay, what’s up?” Dennis grits out after a tense pause. 

“I’ve um… I’ve been thinking about what you said. About me, at that sexual harassment thing,” he continues when Dennis looks confused. “And then also about what you said a few weeks ago, about—about our living situation.” Dennis’ heart stops. A million protests are on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps his mouth resolutely shut. If he says even one of them, he’ll spill everything like he almost did a few weeks ago. 

“Okay,” Dennis says slowly when Mac pauses. Mac takes a deep breath. 

“And I just wanted to say sorry,” Mac mutters, not meeting Dennis’ eyes. He’s fidgeting, playing with a loose thread on his tie. “I really didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, dude, I swear. I think I just… I had these assumptions about us, I guess, and how you felt, and about what would happen when you moved back in. But I— I should have listened bro. I should have realized it wasn’t what you wanted.” Dennis swallows. “And, look if you want me gone, I get it now. Being with Rex, having some space, it’s helped me figure that out, and I get why you don’t want me to be your roommate.” 

His voice is so small as he finishes. They sit in silence for a long minute, Dennis’ mind racing, trying to find the safest response. This is not what was supposed to happen. Mac wasn’t supposed to get more clarity from having space from Dennis. He was supposed to become more attached, more desperate to win Dennis’ affection. He was supposed to crave Dennis’ attention, not learn that he could live without it. Dennis’ ears are ringing. He opens his mouth to speak, to tell Mac that he’s got this wrong, that he’s completely fucked this up, but Mac speaks again before he comes up with anything coherent. 

“So—we’ve been talking, and I’m uh. I’m going to move in with Rex.” 

The bottom falls out of his stomach. His mind swims, the ringing in his ears becomes deafening. He doesn’t even hear the next sentence out of Mac’s mouth, he just gapes silently, his buzz instantly gone. 

“…know it’s only been like a month, but I’ve been over there so much that I basically live there already, and we work really well together—“

_God, dude, this is why you and I are such a great team._

“—and then you can have your apartment back—“ 

 _Your_  apartment.

_Why do I have to move out? It's my apartment, too._

_Uh, actually, you know what, Mac? Turns out it's not your apartment, because you never signed the lease, if you recall._

“—and we can just—just go back to normal. Before I started like, jumping you,” he finishes, trying to lighten the mood with a sheepish grin. 

_Mac’s lips were soft on his. It was movie night, their first one since Dennis had come back, the week after the disastrous escape room debacle. They were both buzzed after sharing a twelve pack of beer, sitting closer than necessary on the couch. Dennis had turned to Mac to comment on the impracticality of the same scene he criticized every time they watched it, and before he could start Mac’s mouth was on his._

_Dennis gasped, tense with shock. Mac’s lips moved against his, but Dennis didn’t kiss him back. Mac pulled away after a moment, realizing Dennis was not going to reciprocate, and they stared at each other. Mac was panting, and his eyes were so wide. Dennis had never seen him look so scared. His body screamed at him to pull Mac back in, but his limbs were rigid, his hands gripping his beer bottle so hard he thought it would shatter._

_Finally, Mac breathed out a quiet “sorry,” and made a beeline for his room, dropping the bowl of popcorn onto the floor as he all but ran from Dennis. Dennis heard his bedroom door lock. He remained frozen on the couch, staring blankly at the TV until the movie ended. Mac never came back out._

“Dennis?” Mac’s voice pulls him back to the present. “You still with me? Jesus, how drunk are you?” he asks with a shaky laugh. Dennis has never felt more sober in his life. 

“Yeah, I’m just…processing,” Dennis manages at last. “When—when are you planning to uh—“ he stutters, clearing his throat. Mac throws a concerned look at his reaction, but lets it go. 

“Next week,” he answers quietly. 

Dennis feels himself nodding. His hands are numb, he didn’t realize how fucking cold it was out here. Pretty soon it would start snowing. At least Mac wouldn’t be around to bitch about turning the heat on every five minutes. 

“Den?” 

He doesn’t answer. He thinks about Rex, fucking Rex, this is his fucking fault. Mac probably told him about the kiss, the idiot, and Rex insisted on this stupid idea. He can feel his pulse quicken, can feel the anger swell, but he doesn’t fight it, just lets himself feel it. He wants to hit something. He bites his cheeks so hard he tastes iron.

He stands abruptly, and hears Mac stand too. He starts pacing, runs his hand through his hair, down his mouth, needing to do something to work through the kinetic energy racing through his system. 

“Dennis? Dude, you okay? You gonna hurl?” 

“No, Mac, I’m not fucking drunk, shut up!” 

“Okay, sorry,” Mac says, holding up his hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dennis says immediately, failing spectacularly at keeping his voice casual. “Nothing is wrong, Mac. This is just perfect, right, the perfect solution, tell him great job,” he spits. His voice is shaking but he can’t stop it.  

“Tell who? Dennis, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Rex, idiot!” Dennis yells. Mac’s eyebrows knit together as he frowns, but he stands his ground. 

“What about him?” 

“What about him? He put this idea in your head, that’s what.” 

“He—seriously, what the fuck are you talking about Dennis?” 

“The kiss!” Dennis snaps. Mac takes a step back at that, his face immediately taking on a guarded expression. “You told him that you kissed me, right? And that pissed him off, and he forced you into this scheme to keep you away from me, didn’t he?” 

Mac shakes his head, and the asshole actually smiles, though there’s no warmth to it. Dennis nearly punches him. 

“Dennis, you fucking moron,” he says lowly. Dennis falters; it’s been years since Mac’s stood up to him like this. He’d usually be avoiding eye contact at this point if Dennis’ fury was directed at him, or if it was at someone else he’d be reaching to calm Dennis down before he hurt someone. “You really think this is because of Rex? Jesus dude, and you call me delusional.” 

“You are delusional, Mac! You can’t see that he’s manipulating you!” 

“You mean the way you manipulate me?” Mac says quietly. Fuck. Dennis genuinely feels like he’s losing his mind. When did Mac wake the fuck up and become so self aware? 

“I don’t—this isn’t— this isn’t about me!” Dennis stammers. 

“Of course it is, dude!” Mac bursts out, finally letting his emotions get the best of him. His voice is getting louder and louder by the word. “You told me that you didn’t want me touching you anymore, that you didn’t want me kissing you,” Dennis flinches, but Mac is too heated to notice. “You told me you didn’t like being my roommate, that you wanted to get rid of me—“ his voice quivers, and he takes a breath before continuing. “I’m finally listening dude! Congratulations! You got what you wanted.” 

Dennis can’t move. Before he can respond, Mac stumbles past him towards the fire escape. He wants to follow him but his muscles aren’t responding. He stays rooted in place, staring out at sleeping Philadelphia and letting his mind go blank, waiting for his pulse to slow, embracing the numb fog that awaits him. 

*

Mac’s last week crawls by. 

He spends more time at the apartment than he has in weeks, but most of the time he’s holed up in his room packing. The rest of the gang had refused to help him move, naturally. He didn’t ask Dennis for help at all, and Dennis didn’t offer. They haven’t spoken, aside from strictly work related conversation. So Mac is left to pack alone. Good, Dennis thinks spitefully. 

Dennis drinks. 

He’d had every intention to maintain some semblance of sobriety when he got back from North Dakota. Withdrawal was literal hell, he didn’t want to let that experience be completely for nothing. Of course, his resolve only lasted all of three minutes the moment he stepped foot in Paddy’s, but he really has tried. He only drinks light beer during the day, rarely breaks out liquor unless it’s been a particularly rough night. Or if it’s a special occasion, like monthly dinner. To a layman it would look as though he wasn’t trying at all, but when compared to what he used to put away, he’s basically a goddamn Mormon now. 

Or he was. All of that effort goes out the window the moment he walks back into the apartment after their dinner. Dennis spends the entire weekend drinking, at home and then at Paddy’s when he catches Mac watching him concernedly. He doesn’t especially feel like getting plastered around Dee, Charlie, and Frank, but it’s better than feeling Mac’s judgmental eyes on him. 

Despite his avoidance tactics, and the increasing amount of time Mac spends in his room, he still can’t hide how heavily he’s binging from Mac. He’s barely eating either, the combination resulting in some very unpleasant hangovers. He survives on granola bars and cashews mostly, unable to muster up the energy or enthusiasm to go out and get a real meal, let alone cook. Mac has stopped cooking breakfast for him, but Dennis starts noticing a sandwich appear at his door every day around lunch time, along with a bottle of water. The first time he finds it, he ignores it. He lets it sit outside of his door until it starts to smell and attract flies. But Mac keeps leaving them. The second time, Dennis waits until he hears Mac in the kitchen before smoothly picking up the plate and throwing the sandwich in the trash. He drops the plate in the sink, refusing to meet Mac’s eyes, and stumbles back to his room without a word. 

The third time, he steps on it as he opens his bedroom door. Mac is gone, left for the gym or to fuck Rex or beat up some more middle schoolers for all Dennis knows. He stares at the sandwich for a long time, thinking about stupid Mac, standing in the kitchen, making the stupid sandwiches the way he knows Dennis likes. Adding the right amount of mayo, mustard, turkey, cheese, lettuce. Stupid, thoughtful, irritating, invasive Mac. Dennis starts to shake, the turmoil in his mind reaching a breaking point. He picks up the plate, throws it at the wall, hears it shatter. His eyes are wet, his breathing ragged, he feels like he’s choking, like he’s drowning. He collapses, curling his knees to his chest, big ugly sobs wracking his body. He doesn’t know how long he stays there. Every fiber in his body is screaming at him to call Mac, then to drink until he can’t see, to drink himself to sleep and never wake up. Instead, his exhausted body responds with the only defense mechanism it has left. He slowly lowers himself to the floor, his eyes slipping closed, asleep in an instant. 

He wakes up hours later on the couch, a blanket draped over him and one of his pillows nestled beneath his head. The sandwich is gone, the shards from the plate cleaned. Dennis calls out Mac’s name on instinct, but is met with silence. He’s alone again. 

*

Two days before Mac is supposed to leave, Dennis is woken by an obnoxiously loud knock on his door. He checks his watch: 8:00 AM. He groans and rolls over, but the knocking continues. 

“Dennis! I know you’re in there, come on!” Dee’s voice floats through the door. “Open up dickhead, I brought Starbucks.” 

With a heavy sigh, Dennis rolls out of bed and lets Dee in. She breezes in without preamble, throwing her coat on his dresser and makes herself comfortable on his bed. 

“What are you doing here so goddamn early Dee?” Dennis grumbles sleepily. He follows her and sits down next to her, their backs resting against his headboard. 

“When is the last time you had a shower?” Dee asks, wrinkling her nose and ducking his question. Dennis shrugs, taking his coffee from her outstretched hand. His hand comes up to rub at his stubble absently.

“I don’t know, yesterday?” he guesses, though it comes out as a question. Dee blessedly doesn’t pursue it. 

They don’t speak for a few minutes, sipping their coffee in mutual silence. Dee starts to scroll through her phone, reading out an occasional interesting headline from Twitter. Dennis only grunts in response. Eventually she runs out of news stories to entice him with and they fall silent again. 

“You ever going to get to what you’re doing here, Dee?” Dennis asks, breaking the silence. Dee looks at him for a long moment. He returns her gaze, refusing to be the first one to look away. She finally looks down at her hands and sighs. 

“What happened in North Dakota, Dennis?” she asks, voice uncharacteristically quiet. Dennis’ veins turn to ice. 

“What do you mean?” he responds, working to keep his voice even. She looks back at him, her face searching. 

“I mean, you dropped off the face of the planet, dicknose,” she says, voice still strangely soft. “I can kind of understand you ghosting the rest of the gang, but I’m your  _sister,_ Dennis. I’ve been with you since before we were born, I know you better than anyone else in the world.” She pauses, seeming to struggle with herself. “I love you, you know. Probably more than I love anyone else in the world,” she admits, finally breaking eye contact and looking at her lap as she says it. 

Dennis swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. They’ve never talked like this with each other, save for the few times Dennis has told her he loves her, strictly in desperate or near death situations. She never said it back, but she didn’t have to because of course he knew. He knew it in his core, could feel it in that freaky twin sixth sense way, the way he could always correctly sense her mood in an instant, the way he can almost feel her pain when she’s hurt, like a phantom limb. He says nothing, waiting for her to continue. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” she presses on. “I didn’t hear from you for months, you wouldn’t answer my calls or texts. Eventually your phone was disconnected completely, I had to search down Mandy’s goddamn number just to make sure you were still alive.” 

She stops, watching Dennis expectedly. He’s staring at his coffee cup, picking at the sticker. This is unfamiliar territory. He hadn’t considered that Dee would care this much about his absence. He knew she loved him, but he didn’t think she liked him enough to care. 

“I don’t know what to say, Dee,” he says finally. 

“An apology would be nice, for starters.” 

Dennis just keeps picking at the label on his coffee, focusing on keeping his breathing steady. Dee stays quiet, waiting. 

“I was in a psychiatric hospital.”

He expects shock, disbelief, for Dee to pester him with a hundred questions as to how he ended up there. He waits for her to speak, but she doesn’t. When he finally looks at her, she’s staring at him expectantly. He frowns, and mirrors her expression. She sighs and rolls her eyes. 

“I know that, genius. Mandy told me.” 

Dennis sputters, long winded protests about privacy on the tip of his tongue, but Dee cuts him off before he can start. 

“She wasn’t betraying your trust or anything, calm down. She called me when you stopped taking your meds, she said she thought you were depressed and she didn’t know what to do.”

“So you recommended the mental house?” Dennis snarls. “You’re the one that betrayed me?” 

“Neither one of us ‘betrayed’ you, Dennis!” Dee replies, growing more and more frustrated. “You checked yourself in, remember?” 

Dennis stops short. He can feel the confusion in his expression, and Dee’s face falls. 

“You don’t remember?” 

“No, I remember,” Dennis says, only half lying. He remembers the fight with Mandy when she told him she wouldn’t let him see Brian Jr. He remembers agreeing to getting help, and how she helped him find some affordable therapists near his apartment, remembers hugging Brian Jr. goodbye a little tighter that night. 

But then another memory nudges through the haze in his head. 

_He’s standing in his kitchen the day after the fight with Mandy. His phone buzzed; another text from Mac. He’d swallowed hard as he unlocked his phone, seeing the long ongoing one-sided chain of messages from Mac. Usually he would open the message just to get rid of the notification without reading it, but this time Mac had sent an attachment. Curiosity getting the best of him, he opened it; it was a video. He pressed play, holding his breath._

_Mac walked into frame, holding the RPG he bought for Dennis. An involuntary noise escaped from Dennis’ throat. Mac looked different, the muscles in his arm were straining in the t-shirt he was wearing, his face looked sharper. He smiled at the camera, and Dennis’ heart seized in his chest._

_“Project bad ass!” he’d shouted, lifting the rocket launcher to his shoulder and taking aim at an abandoned school bus. He couldn’t tell where they were, probably some junkyard, or just as likely, an actual school. Charlie’s voice started to count down from behind the camera. Mac pulled the trigger on ‘one’ and the bus exploded in an awesome spectacle of flames and smoke._

_“YEAH, BAD ASS!” Mac and Charlie were whooping, the camera shaky as Charlie jumped up and down. Mac ran back towards the camera, his face wide and excited and smiling so hard it looked like it hurt._

_“Miss you dude!” he yelled at the camera. “Not the same without you!”_

_The video ended there, paused on a shot of Mac holding the RPG close, like it was something precious, his face ecstatic._

_He’d stared at the image for a long time. He even briefly considered taking a screenshot of it, then shook his head decided against it. He still watched the video several more times, drinking in Mac’s smile.  Then spent several long minutes working up the courage to read all his previously ignored texts._

_“you left your phone charger. do u want me to mail it to you? if not, can I keep it?”_

_“did u hear they’re remaking predator??? bet its gonna suck”_

_“me and charliee ar so DRUNKKKJK!!!!_  
_i miss u”_

_“sorry about last night”_

_“how’s ND?”_

_“hey, whats ur address? found a cool bday present for bj (brian jr.)”_

_“dude please call dee she’s driving me crazy asking about u”_

_“hey call me, CRAZY story to tell u, too long for text”_

_“i;m drunk againnN, th rainbowe givs u free shots if its ur birhtday!!_  
_wish u were here dude_  
_miss u sO fucking muchh_  
_wish u would come home”_

_“sorry about last night. again”_

He doesn’t remember much after that. He has flashes of punching the wall of his kitchen, once, twice, again and again and again. He can remember screaming, seeing red, incensed at the idea that the gang, that Mac, seemed to be thriving without him. That they were shooting the RPG, his RPG, his gift from Mac, and laughing and carrying on as if Dennis wasn’t wasting away out in bum fuck North Dakota. That Mac was so openly admitting he missed him, yet seemed to be moving through his daily life like it was nothing, getting drunk with Charlie and for his birthday and probably sleeping around with guys from The Rainbow. That he thought to buy his son a birthday gift, took time out of his day to find something he thought Brian would like, and even gave him a stupid nickname. That he wanted Dennis to come home. 

Most of it is a blur. He remembers police eventually showing up in response to a noise complaint. He remembers them seeing the blood on his knuckles, on the wall. He remembers pleading with them not to file a report, insisting that he was taking care of it, that he was checking in to North Dakota State the next day. Remembers their insistence that they had to write this up. 

Then its just fog. Arguing, pleading, yelling. Mandy showing up, reasoning with the cops. Mandy driving, Mandy sitting next to him, filling out his paperwork as Dennis held Brian Jr. close, the contact being the only thing grounding him. Feeling the blissful numbness take over again as he dropped Brian Jr.’s hand and checked into what would be his home for the next two months. 

Dee clears her throat next to him, bringing him abruptly back to the present. 

“Mandy told me it was a dissociative event,” she says, her voice slipping into her falsely superior ’I minored in psychology in college’ tone. He rolls his eyes before he can help it. “So it’s normal to not remember all of it.” 

Dennis inhales deeply, feeling the beginnings of a migraine. He was in no way ready to deal with this today, and definitely not so goddamn early in the morning. 

“What do you want me to say Dee?” he finally sighs. “You know what happened. I thought I was making the right decision, moving to North Dakota, trying to be a father. But I was…wrong,” he finishes lamely. He knows its not good enough, doesn’t excuse ignoring her calls and making her worry. He knows that she knows there’s more to it than that, and he almost tells her, he almost just lets it all pour out of him like water bursting through a dam. But as quick as that impulse appears, it’s gone. He clams up again. 

He sees Dee nod in his peripheral vision. 

“Well, that’s more of an explanation than I expected to get I guess,” she says, seeming to accept his answer. “I take it things haven’t been going too hot since you got back either.” 

“What do you mean?” he says, his guard up immediately. Dennis can almost hear her eyes roll back into her head. 

“Jesus Christ Dennis, do not do this,” she warns. “We can all see what’s been going on, you haven’t shut up about Mac, and Mac and Rex, and ‘incompatibility’ and ‘not even that good looking’ and —“ 

“Okay, okay, I got it,” Dennis interrupts. 

“Exactly. So don’t bullshit me Dennis. You haven’t been the same since you’ve been back. And you’ve been a fucking mess since Mac told us he was moving in with Rex, and I’m not going to let what happened in North Dakota happen again, so I’m here to help.”

“Help?” Dennis repeats. He feels an odd rush of affection for Dee in that moment, touched more than he’d ever admit that she gives a shit about his mental wellbeing. 

“Yeah, help. So, what’s the plan? You going to sue him for rent? Fake an illness? Should probably steer clear of cancer, we don’t have a great track record with that, everyone would know you were lying. Maybe we can ask that lawyer that always helps us out, I bet he would have a good idea, he got you really good when you divorced whatshername—“ 

“Dee,” Dennis finally cuts her off. She stops rambling and looks at him. “What in the shit are you talking about?”

“The plan!” she exclaims. “You really don’t have a plan?” 

“No, Dee, he’s leaving, I’m staying here, that is the plan! I’m not going to fake having cancer to get him to stay, are you insane?” 

“Well I know dipshit, we said no to cancer already. I’m thinking we go with like, West Nile virus—“

“Dee, oh my god, stop,” Dennis interrupts. “I am not going to con Mac into staying. He wants to leave, he can leave. I’m fine,” he lies. 

Dee sighs dramatically. “Dennis, what did I say earlier?” 

He looks at her blankly. 

“Don’t. Bullshit. Me.” She emphasizes every syllable. “It’ll save everyone a lot of time. I know you don’t want Mac to leave. I know you like to pretend that you don’t need him. You may be able to fool Charlie, and Frank, and even Mac himself, but I see right through your shit Dennis. You two are the most unhealthily codependent assholes I’ve ever met.” 

Dennis shifts uncomfortably. His instincts are telling him to deny, deny, deny, but he knows there’s no point. She continues when Dennis stays silent. 

“Alright, now that we’re done pretending, lets brainstorm. I know I really shouldn’t even be encouraging this, like I said this codependency shit is super unhealthy, but you two are both happier and way more tolerable when you’re up each others ass. Now, lets call up Mr. Lawyer, see if we can bully him into some free advice.” 

She picks up her phone, and Dennis grabs it from her hand before she can unlock it. 

“Dee, I told you, I’m not doing this,” he says, holding the phone out of her reach. “He’s made up his mind, he doesn’t want to be here, okay?” 

“God you’re a fucking idiot,” Dee mutters under her breath. “Seriously, Dennis, you cannot ever claim to be the smartest one in the gang ever again.” Dennis opens his mouth to argue, but she stands up abruptly and moves towards the door. 

“New plan,” she says as she puts on her coat. “Why don’t you try a little actual human communication, hm?” Her voice goes soft again as she adds, “Just talk to him, Dennis.” 

Dennis stares at her, words caught in his throat. She turns to leave, and he stands and calls her name before she opens the door. Dee hesitates and watches him curiously.

“Um, I,” he begins, not sure how to phrase what he wants to say. Dee must be able to read it all over his face, because without a word, she walks up to him and kisses his cheek. He can’t remember her ever doing that in their entire life. 

“I’m glad you’re back, Dennis,” she says quietly. He smiles, feeling a lump rise in his throat again. 

“God, Dee, you have coffee breath,” is all he can muster in response. She rolls her eyes, but touches his arm one last time before leaving. 

“Bye asshole!” she calls as she leaves the apartment, and just like that, the moment is gone. Dennis crawls back into bed, replaying their conversation over in his mind, more confused than he was before Dee showed up. The migraine that had been hovering in his head for the last hour suddenly erupts in full force, slamming him with nausea. He closes his eyes, yearning for sleep, and for something else he doesn’t want to name.

*

It’s Mac’s last day in the apartment.

People filter in and out of the apartment all day. Mac had somehow gotten Dee and Charlie to agree to help him move after all. Rex is also there, along with some guys Dennis doesn’t recognize. New friends of Mac’s from the gym, from Rex, from who knows. Dennis doesn’t care.

He stays in his room most of the day. Dee tries to talk to him, he can tell she wants to know if he took her unsolicited advice. He ignores her, snaps at her to mind her own business when she pries. She sighs and leaves him be, finally.

Dennis doesn’t bother drinking. It would be a waste, empty calories. He’s already numb, already in denial, already convinced Mac is going to change his mind at the last minute. That he’ll beg and plead for forgiveness, that he’ll crawl back to Dennis the way he always does, waxing poetic about how they’re blood brothers, how they belong together.

But the hours pass, and the apartment grows emptier. Mac managed to accumulate a lot of shit while Dennis was gone. He’s shocked to find the tables have turned, that now it’s Mac that owns nearly everything. With every object of Mac’s that’s removed, he feels another part of himself slip away with it.

It takes them all day. By eight o’clock, Dennis can’t stand it anymore. He leaves, making a beeline for the nearest bar, ignores the gang calling his name as he slams the door.

As he’s leaving, he sees the dildo bike. It’s not in the truck like the rest of Mac’s things, it’s on the curb for the trash. He fights the hysterical laughter bubbling in his throat when he realizes it’s because Mac won’t need it anymore. Or that maybe Rex refuses to let the disgusting thing come into his place.

He walks, and finds the shittiest bar he can think of, half expecting to find Dee or Charlie following him inside. He looks around as he sits at the bar. No one is there. No one followed him. He’s alone.

He signals the bartender, intending to order the hardest liquor they have. Instead he hears himself order a beer. It’s lukewarm, and not enough to dull the pounding in his head, not enough to drown the ringing in his ears. He drinks it all in two minutes flat, then orders another.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there. He stops drinking after the third beer, realizing it’s not doing jack shit. He just sits, tearing bar napkins into neat squares, making a checkerboard out of the pieces, trying to think about nothing at all.

It doesn’t work. He thinks about nothing but Mac at Rex’s place. He thinks about Mac cooking Rex breakfast every morning instead of him. He thinks about Mac staying home on Tuesday nights, leaving Dennis alone with a bowl of popcorn and the gross bag of Red Vines Mac likes to eat. He thinks about keeping a bag of it in the apartment, just in case Mac shows up. He thinks about Rex starting to hang around at the bar, about having to see him kiss Mac or hold his hand, see him make Mac laugh the way Dennis used to. He thinks about them having sex, imagines Mac’s face as Rex pushes him into the mattress, thinks about Rex getting see Mac come apart.

He thinks about himself, alone in the apartment, loneliness dragging him further and further into oblivion, until he’s no longer himself, until he’s just a shell of a man, of a _god_. What a fucking waste.

The bar closes. Dennis is forced outside, the fresh winter air clearing some of the fog. He’s not drunk, but if he were he would have sobered up immediately. He walks home on autopilot, the Philadelphia streets deserted at this hour. He’s alone, now and forever.

 

The apartment doesn’t look quite as empty as Dennis expects when he walks in. The couch is still there, the TV, most of the knickknacks and pictures and the stack of DVDs. Mac bought all of these things, they belong to him. He’s leaving them for Dennis, another gift that he doesn’t deserve.

His feet carry him to the door to Mac’s room. He touches the handle, swallowing hard. Before he can change his mind, he turns it slowly, creaking the door open.

His stomach plummets at how desolate the room looks. His bookshelf is gone, his crucifixes, the dresser. His closet is empty. The only object in the room is his bed, waiting to be packed up and carted away in the morning.

Mac sleeps soundly, lying on his side where Dennis can see his face, smooth and peaceful. The light filters in through the open door, perfectly illuminating his skin, his tousled hair. Dennis is struck again by how beautiful Mac is. He remembers tossing and turning in the months they lived with Dee and slept in the same bed. Mac would always sleep so deeply, and Dennis would find himself watching his serene face for what felt like hours, feeling envy and something else he’d refused to acknowledge.

Dennis’ feet pad silently to the bed. He lifts the covers, and quietly slides into the bed. Mac shifts, his eyes fluttering slightly. He squints at Dennis, confusion written all over his features.

“Dennis?” he whispers groggily. “What are you—“

He doesn’t finish. Dennis curls himself closer to Mac, nestling his head underneath Mac’s chin, his hand gripping Mac’s t-shirt so hard his knuckles turn white. Mac is rigid, his breathing shallow and fast. Dennis holds his breath, praying for the first time since childhood that Mac doesn’t push him away. After a tense minute, Mac’s arm comes to settle around Dennis’ waist. Dennis sighs against his neck, relief flooding through him.

“Den?” Mac rumbles. Dennis can feel his voice vibrate in his throat. He says nothing, just breathes Mac in, trying to inhale all of him while he can.

Mac relaxes, his hands starting to rub small circles into his back. Dennis’ eyes close. His breathing is even, his mind calm, the roaring in his ears gone. He feels one of Mac’s hands come up into his hair, carding through the messy waves, and Dennis exhales again. He feels his pulse quicken when Mac’s fingers brush through a snag, pulling his hair slightly. Without thinking about it, he tilts his head, presses his lips against Mac’s neck softly.

Mac inhales sharply and pauses, as if he’s trying to decide if he imagined it. Dennis does it again, applying a little more pressure. Mac shudders against his mouth. Dennis’ hands loosen their grip on his shirt, slowly making their way to Mac’s neck, his face. He cups his face, and Mac pulls back slightly to look at him. Dennis’ heart thumps painfully in his chest. Mac’s expression looks wrecked, his eyes glancing between Dennis’ mouth and his eyes. They stare at each other for a long moment, before Dennis pulls him in and kisses him.

Mac responds instantly. His lips move against Dennis, pulling him flush against his body. Dennis’ hands move into Mac’s hair, his breathing ragged as he kisses Mac harder, warm all over. Mac’s mouth opens, his tongue swipes over Dennis’ bottom lip and he shudders violently. Dennis slips his tongue into his mouth, and Mac moans low in the back of his throat. Dennis feels all the blood in his body rush to his groin at the sound, pressing as far into Mac as he can. Mac’s leg twines with Dennis’ and he hitches his hips forward, finally finding the right angle and dragging a groan out of Dennis as their hips rock together. He rolls his hips into Dennis’ again, chasing the sound. Dennis chokes out a moan, pulling back and throwing his head back.

Mac wastes no time in attaching his lips to Dennis’ jaw, trailing kisses along it to his ear. He bites his earlobe, and Dennis gasps, unable to control the movement of his hips seeking friction. He feels Mac’s erection brush his and shivers, feels Mac do the same. He kisses Mac again hungrily, and Mac pushes until Dennis is on his back, Mac’s body pressing him into the bed. Mac’s hands are everywhere, Dennis’ hair, his arms, his waist, under his shirt, caressing his hips.

“ _Mac_ ,” Dennis gasps when he feels his hands on his skin. He can’t control the way he’s writhing, the way his breath shudders when Mac’s hands move up his ribs, thumb brushing over his nipple. “Mac, please—“

“Shhh,” Mac quiets, gently running his hands down Dennis’ face. Dennis feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes, pressing his face into Mac’s neck again to hide it. Mac is so good, so patient. He knows Mac sees, but he says nothing, just cards his hands through Dennis’ hair again. Dennis kisses his throat, bites at his pulse, breathes in Mac’s moan. Dennis pushes at Mac’s shirt, needing Mac’s skin more than he needs air. They break apart as Mac pulls his shirt off. He reaches down and pulls Dennis’ over his head, breath hitching when he sees Dennis, his ribs protruding more than they ever have.

“Dennis,” he breathes, fingers tracing over his chest. Dennis feels a surge of pride, but Mac’s expression is concerned, his eyebrows knit together and eyes sad. Dennis pulls Mac back down into a kiss, trying to distract him, biting his bottom lip and licking into his mouth. Mac groans, falling more heavily onto Dennis, gasping when their chests meet, skin sliding together. Dennis runs his hands over Mac’s perfect torso, his back, shoulders, his abs. He grabs Mac’s ass the way he’s wanted to for months, years really, pulling him closer.

Mac pulls away, kissing down Dennis’ jaw, his throat, his collarbone. Dennis is panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly, shouting in surprise when he feels Mac’s mouth close over his nipple. He jerks under Mac, hands coming back to his hair, writhing and rolling his hips and moaning uncontrollably. Mac makes a sound low in his throat, looks up at Dennis, his eyes heavy lidded, and Dennis can’t take it. He sits up, pulling Mac with him, maneuvering into his lap. There’s an awkward moment as Dennis slips off his pants and boxers and Mac struggles to do the same, his hands shaking.  
  
Dennis settles into his lap, and Mac’s head falls back heavily against the headboard as their cocks slide together, groaning loudly. He sounds so beautiful, Dennis takes a brief moment to wish he was recording this when Mac’s hand suddenly closes around him, his thumb brushing over the slit, and Dennis comes undone.

“ _Mac_ ,” he cries, leaning forward and kissing him hard, sloppy, breathing hard into his mouth. He’s fucking into Mac’s fist, feels Mac’s cock rubbing over his stomach, slick with precome. Mac is panting, whispering Dennis’ name over and over again like a prayer.

“You’re so good,” Dennis babbles, feeling heat pool fast and hot in his stomach. He’s so close, and they’ve barely done anything. Sex has never felt like this, never felt so overwhelming, as if he will die if Mac stops touching him, if he ever has to be without this again. “You’re so good Mac, fuck,” he breathes, jerking in Mac’s grip as Mac twists his hand. He pushes closer, trying to give Mac more friction, unable to remove his hands from Mac’s hair. He pulls, and Mac moans, so loud that Dennis does it again. “Fuck, Dennis,” he shudders. Dennis kisses his neck again, biting and sucking at his pulse point again, leaving a bruise. He can hear and feel every sound Mac makes, can feel how Mac picks up the pace, chasing his release. His hand squeezes Dennis tighter. He throws his head back, then presses forward, breathing hot against Mac’s mouth as he presses their foreheads together.

“Don’t go,” Dennis whispers. His eyes are screwed tight, and he’s so quiet he’s not even sure that Mac heard him. Mac slows, then stops moving entirely to look at Dennis. Dennis gasps as Mac removes his hand from his cock, feels them come to rest on his waist.

“Den,” he hears Mac say, keeping his eyes closed. “Look at me,” Mac continues softly. His thumbs are rubbing soft circles over Dennis’ ribs.  
  
Dennis opens his eyes. Mac is staring at him wide eyed, like he’s something precious, like he’s never seen anyone like him, like he’s worthy of devotion. Tears spring to his eyes again, but this time he forces himself to keep eye contact.

“Stay,” Dennis repeats. “Stay with me.” His voice breaks, and one of Mac’s hands comes up to brush over his cheek. He keeps looking at Dennis, his face open and raw. He’s silent, and Dennis can’t stand it anymore, he leans close and kisses him gently, lips barely brushing over his. He feels Mac’s eyes flutter closed over his wet cheek. Mac kisses back, softly, then more intense. They both gasp as Dennis shifts forwards, their cocks rubbing together, as if they’d both forgotten they were hard.

Dennis takes both of them in his hand, and Mac’s head hits the headboard again. Dennis kisses him, fast and hard and messy, as Mac’s breathing kicks up again. They’re both writhing, Mac’s hands on Dennis ass. His hands trail down, one finger brushing over Dennis’ hole and he chokes out a low moan against Mac’s mouth. Mac does it again, and Dennis nearly sobs with how good it feels.

He pulls back from Mac’s mouth, babbling against his lips.

“Please, stay, please Mac, _god_ ,” he’s saying not caring how desperate he sounds. Mac is breathing heavily, erratic, Dennis can tell he’s close. His hands are everywhere as Dennis jacks them both off, his hand speeding up and twisting at the head, Mac crying out his name. “Stay with me,” Dennis pleads again, lost in pleasure, his mind hazy and uninhibited. “I love you,” he lets slip, his voice softer than a whisper.

Mac comes with a loud cry of Dennis’ name, spilling hot over Dennis’ hand, his stomach. Dennis has a moment to marvel at how Mac looks, memorizing it, before Mac’s lips crash against his. He kisses Dennis like he’s dying, like he’d happily drown if he could live in this moment forever. He pushes Dennis back down into the mattress, his hand replacing Dennis’ over his cock, moving fast and tight and Dennis’ head is spinning.

“Come on,” Mac says against his mouth. “Come for me, Den.” Dennis tries to hide his face in Mac’s neck as he comes apart, but Mac pulls him back, whispering, “I want to see you.” He comes with a shout, his mind whiting out, unable to control what comes out of his mouth as his hips jerk and Mac strokes him through it. When he comes back down, Mac is shushing him, wiping at his face again with his clean hand. He watches Dennis as he strokes his face, looking at him like he’s never really seen him before. Dennis returns his gaze, until Mac slowly lowers himself next to Dennis, pulling him close.

Mac reaches across the bed and grabs his t-shirt to clean their hands, their stomachs. Dennis wrinkles his nose as Mac tosses it on the floor, thinking they’ll have to throw it out.

They don’t speak for a long time. They’re in the same position they started in, Dennis’ face buried in Mac’s neck, Mac stroking his back.

“Did you mean it?” Mac finally asks in the dark, breaking the sleepy stillness.

Dennis considers pretending he didn’t hear, pretending he’s fallen asleep. But he knows Mac can tell he isn’t, and if he ignored him now Mac might never forgive him. He can’t do that to him again.

Dennis nods against Mac’s throat, his own too constricted to speak.

They fall quiet again. Dennis’ heart is pounding, Mac must be able to feel it. He can hear Mac’s thud against his ear.

“Stay,” he repeats for the third time. He feels Mac swallow hard, his arms tightening around Dennis. And then slowly, Dennis feels him nod.

“Always,” Mac whispers.

*

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, come talk to me on tumblr! @hyruling


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